by Sylvia Day
I hadn’t a clue what kind of material the bikini was made of, but it was seamless and hugged her skin so perfectly it looked painted on. Thin straps at the neck, hips, and back brought to mind thoughts of tying her up and taking what I needed.
“Come here,” I ordered, reaching for her.
She danced out of reach. Tossing the sheet back, I surged to my feet.
“Down, boy,” she teased, darting around the sofa.
I fisted my cock, stroking it hard from root to tip as I stalked her into the seating area. “That’s not going to work.”
Her eyes sparkled with laughter.
“Eva—”
She snatched something off the back of the chair and ran to the door. “See you downstairs!”
I lunged for her and missed, finding myself facing the back of the slammed door instead. “Damn it.”
I brushed my teeth, threw on swim trunks and a T-shirt, and followed her down. I was the last one to make an appearance, discovering the rest of the group already seated at the kitchen island and eating heartily. A quick glance at the clock told me it was almost noon.
I looked for Eva and found her sitting on the patio with a phone to her ear. She’d covered herself in a strapless white skirt thing. I noted that Monica and Lacey were both dressed similarly, with bathing suits partially hidden by barely-there cover-ups. Like me, Cary, Stanton, and Martin had on trunks and T-shirts.
“She always calls her dad on Saturdays,” Cary said, following my gaze.
I watched my wife for a long minute, looking for any signs of distress. She wasn’t smiling anymore, but she didn’t look upset.
“Here you go, Gideon.” Monica set a plate of waffles and bacon in front of me. “Would you like coffee? Or maybe a mimosa?”
I glanced at Eva again before answering. “Coffee—black—would be great, thank you.”
Monica moved toward the coffeemaker on the counter. I joined her.
She smiled at me, her lips painted the same pink as the halter tie of her swimsuit. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock.” Which was true, though that was pure luck. The entire household might’ve been woken up by a fight between Eva and me, with her struggling to fight me off while my dreams imagined she was someone else.
Glancing over my shoulder at Cary, I caught his grim gaze. He’d seen what could happen. He didn’t trust me with Eva any more than I trusted myself.
I grabbed an extra mug out of the cupboard Monica reached into. “I can get it,” I told her.
“Nonsense.”
I didn’t argue with her. I let her pour my coffee, then followed suit by pouring a cup for my wife. After adding Eva’s preferred amount of half-and-half, I grabbed the handles of both mugs in one hand. Then I picked up the plate Monica had served me and headed out to the patio.
Eva glanced up at me as I set everything on the table beside her and took the seat on the other side. She’d left her hair down. Blond tendrils fluttered around her bare face as the breeze ruffled through it. I loved her this way, earthy and natural. Here and now, she was my own piece of heaven on earth.
Thank you, she mouthed, before snatching up a piece of bacon. She munched quickly while Victor said something I couldn’t hear.
“Eventually, I’ll focus on Crossroads,” she said, “which is Gideon’s charitable foundation. I hope to be active in that. And I’ve been thinking about maybe going back to school.”
My brows rose.
“I’d like to be a sounding board for Gideon,” she continued, looking straight at me. “Obviously, he’s managed well enough without me and he’s got a great team of advisors, but I’d like him to be able to talk shop with me and at least understand what he’s saying.”
I tapped my chest. I’ll teach you.
She blew me a kiss. “In the meantime, I’m going to be crazy busy trying to pull off a wedding in less than three weeks. I haven’t even picked out invitations yet! I know it’s going to be hard for some of the family to get time off. Could you send out an e-mail in the meantime? Just to get the ball rolling?”
Eva bit into the bacon while her father talked.
“We haven’t discussed it,” she replied, swallowing quickly, “but I’m not planning on inviting them. They lost the right to be part of my life when they disowned Mom. And it’s not like they’ve ever reached out to me, so I don’t think they’d care anyway.”
I looked across the span of sand to the water beyond it. I wasn’t interested in meeting Eva’s maternal grandparents, either. They’d rejected Monica for becoming pregnant with Eva out of wedlock. Anyone who found my wife’s existence distasteful was better off not crossing paths with me.
I listened to Eva’s side of the conversation for another few minutes, and then she said good-bye. When she set her phone on the table, she gave a big sigh that sounded like relief.
“Everything good?” I asked, studying her.
“Yeah, he’s better today.” She glanced inside the house. “You didn’t want to eat with the family?”
“Am I being antisocial?”
She smiled wryly. “Totally. I can’t hold it against you, though.”
I gave her an inquiring look.
“I realized I haven’t included your mother in the wedding planning,” she explained.
Settling deeper into the chair to conceal the stiffening of my spine, I told her, “You don’t have to.”
Her lips pursed. She reached for another piece of bacon, then handed it to me. True love.
“Eva.” I waited until she looked at me. “It’s your day. Don’t feel obligated to do anything but enjoy yourself. And have sex with me, which should fall under enjoying yourself.”
That brought her smile back. “It’s going to be wonderful no matter what.”
I voiced what was left unsaid. “But?”
“I don’t know.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and shrugged. “Thinking about my mom’s parents has me thinking about grandparents, and your mother is going to be our children’s grandmother. I don’t want that to be awkward.”
I bristled. The thought of my mother and a child I created with Eva together in any way filled me with a riot of emotions I couldn’t deal with now. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Isn’t our wedding the place to start?”
“You don’t like my mother,” I snapped. “Don’t pretend you do for the sake of children who don’t exist yet.”
Eva jerked back slightly. She blinked at me, then reached for her coffee. “Did you try the waffles?”
Knowing it wasn’t in my wife’s nature to steer away from sensitive topics, I still let her do it. If we were going to get into the subject of my mother, we could do it later.
She set her mug down and tore off a piece of waffle with her fingers. She held it out to me. I took it for what it was: a peace offering.
Then I stood and took her hand, leading her out to the beach for a walk to clear my head.
“You’re welcome.”
Turning my head, I saw Cary grinning at me from where he lay on the sand a few feet away.
“I know you appreciate my packing that bikini,” he elaborated, jerking his chin toward Eva, who was standing thigh-deep in the water.
Her hair was damp and slicked back from her face. Oversize aviator sunglasses shielded her eyes from the sun as she threw a Frisbee back and forth with Martin and Lacey.
“Did you help her pick that out?” Monica asked, smiling from beneath an elegant wide-brim hat.
I’d watched her slather sunscreen all over Eva, a job I wanted for myself, but I didn’t press the point. Sometimes, Monica mothered Eva as if she were still a child. While my wife rolled her eyes at me, I could see that she basked in the attention. It was a very different relationship from the one I had with my own mother.
I couldn’t say that my mom didn’t love me, because she did. In her own way—within boundaries. Monica’s love, on the other hand, had no limits, something Eva found stifling at
times.
Who could say which was better or worse? To be loved too much or too little?
God knew I loved Eva beyond all reason.
A sudden sea breeze snapped me out of it. Monica hung on to her hat as Cary turned his head toward her.
“I did,” Cary replied, rolling over onto his stomach. “She was looking at one-pieces and I had to intervene. That bikini was made for her.”
Yeah. Hell yeah. I had my arms crossed over my bent knees so I could take in my fill of her. She was wet and nearly naked, and I was hot for her.
As if she sensed we were talking about her, Eva crooked her finger at me, beckoning me to come to her. I nodded but waited for a few moments before rising from where I’d been sitting in the sand.
The chill of the water made me suck in a sharp breath, but I was grateful for it a moment later when she surged toward me and plastered herself against me. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her smiling mouth puckering into a heated kiss against my lips.
“You’re not bored, are you?” she asked.
Then she twisted in a way that sent us both tumbling into the water. I felt her hand cup my cock and give it a gentle squeeze. She wriggled away as I came up for air, laughing as she pulled her sunglasses off and tried to run onto the beach.
I caught her by the waist and took us both down, absorbing the fall onto the sand on my back. Her squeal of surprise was my reward, as was the feel of her cool, sleek body writhing against my own.
Turning, I pinned her down. My hair hung around my face, dripping water onto hers. She stuck her tongue out at me.
“The things I’d do to you if we didn’t have an audience,” I told her.
“We’re newlyweds. You can kiss me.”
Looking up, I saw all eyes on us.
I also spotted Ben Clancy and Angus closing in on a house two lots down. Even at this distance, the glint of light from the patio betrayed a camera’s lens.
I started to sit up, but Eva’s legs tangled with mine and held me down.
“Kiss me like you love me, ace,” she challenged. “I dare you.”
I remembered saying those words to her and how she’d kissed my breath away.
Lowering my head, I sealed my mouth over hers.
5
I’d been dozing more than sleeping when I heard my bedroom door open. After spending a weekend at the beach, the sounds of energetic Manhattan filtering into the apartment had both soothed and excited me. I had a long way to go before I could call myself a New Yorker, but the city already felt like home to me now.
“Rise and shine, baby girl!” Cary shouted. A moment later, he bounded onto my bed, nearly bouncing me off.
Sitting up, I shoved the hair back from my face. Then I shoved him. “I’m sleeping in, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“It’s after nine o’clock, lazybones,” he drawled, settling on his stomach with his heels kicked up behind him. “I know you’re unemployed, but don’t you have a shit-ton of stuff to get done?”
As I drifted in and out of sleep, I’d been thinking about everything on my to-do list. There was so much to scratch off, it was overwhelming. “Yeah.”
“Such enthusiasm.”
“I need coffee for that. What about you?” I looked at him, noting that he was dressed in olive cargo pants and a charcoal V-neck T-shirt. “What’s on your agenda today?”
“I’m supposed to take it easy, so I can be ready to hit the catwalk tomorrow. For now, I’m all yours.”
Reaching behind me, I propped my pillows up and scooted back against them. “I need to call the wedding planner, the interior designer, and get the invitation thing sorted out.”
“You also need a dress.”
“I know.” I wrinkled my nose. “That’s not on my list today, though.”
“Are you kidding? Even if you bought a dress off the rack—which we both know you can’t—if it needs any alterations whatsoever, Mrs. Big Boobs and Voluptuous Ass, you’re pushing it timewise.”
Cary was right. I’d realized I had to find something custom after photos of Gideon and me kissing on the beach had spread all over the Internet on Sunday. The number of “steal this look” blog posts on my beachwear boggled my mind. Since the bikini I’d worn had been discontinued, prices for used ones on resale sites were staggering.
“I don’t know what to do, Cary,” I admitted. “It’s not like I have any designers on speed dial.”
“Lucky for you, it’s Fashion Week.”
That woke me up and sent my thoughts racing around in circles. “No shit? How did I miss that?”
“You’ve been mostly wallowing in misery,” he reminded dryly. “You know your mom will be hitting a few shows, rubbing elbows and spending thousands. Go with her.”
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “I’m afraid to talk to her about anything after she flipped out yesterday.”
He made a face. “Yeah, she had a full-on Monica Meltdown.”
“I swear we just had a conversation about her turning my wedding into a publicity op and now she’s acting like any press is a nightmare.”
“Well, to be fair, she was specific about tabloid coverage.”
“Is there any other kind nowadays?” I sighed, knowing I was due for another talk with my mother. That wouldn’t be fun. “I don’t know what she’s so upset about. I couldn’t have asked for a better picture of Gideon and me if I’d tried. It’s perfect for making Corinne Giroux look desperate.”
“True.” His grin faded. “And honestly, it’s good to see Gideon so into you. He had a stick up his ass most of the weekend. I was starting to think he was cooling off.”
“Too late for that.” I kept my tone light, but it had torn me up to see how uncomfortable Gideon was with any sign of affection. Friendship seemed to be the closest connection he could tolerate outside our marriage. “It wasn’t personal, Cary. Remember how he acted at the Vidal Records party at his parents’ house?”
“Vaguely.” He shrugged. “Not my problem anyway. Do you want me to reach out to some friends and see if we can’t put the word out while we’re strutting our stuff this week? Your bikini blew up the Internet. I can’t imagine any designer turning down the chance to design your wedding dress.”
I groaned. How amazing would it be to knock Gideon’s socks off with a glamorous, made-just-for-me dress? “I don’t know. It would suck royally if word got out about how soon it’s all going down. I don’t want a media circus. It’s bad enough we can’t even go out of town for the weekend without some creepy photographer following us.”
“Eva. You have to do something.”
Wincing, I confessed, “I haven’t told Mom about the September twenty-second date.”
“Get on it. Now.”
“I know.”
“Baby girl”—he blew his bangs out of his face—“you could have the best wedding planner in the world, but your mom is the only woman who can pull off an epic wedding—an Eva-worthy wedding—in a matter of days.”
“We can’t agree on style!”
Cary hopped off the bed. “Hate to point it out, but Momma knows best. She decorated this place and buys you clothes. Her style is your style.”
I glared at him. “She likes shopping more than I do.”
“Sure thing, sweet cheeks.” He blew me a kiss. “I’ll fix you a cup of coffee.”
Throwing back the covers, I got out of bed. My best friend had a point. Sort of. But I pulled outfits together my own way.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand to call my mom when Gideon’s face lit up my screen. “Hey,” I answered.
“How’s your morning so far?”
It tickled me to hear his clipped, businesslike tone. My husband’s head was in the game, but he was still thinking of me.
“I just rolled out of bed, so I can’t really say. How’s yours? You finish buying up everything in Manhattan?”
“Not quite. Have to leave something for the competition. Otherwise, where’s the fun?”
“
You do love your challenges.” I headed into the bathroom, my gaze sliding over the tub before pausing on the shower. Just thinking about my husband naked and wet made me hot. “What do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t resisted you to begin with? What if I’d just fallen into bed with you when you asked?”
“You would’ve blown my mind, just as you did. That was inevitable. Have lunch with me.”
I smiled. “I’m supposed to be planning a wedding.”
“I hear a yes in there. It’s a business lunch, but you’ll enjoy it.”
Looking in the mirror, I saw wildly tousled bedhead and creases in my cheeks from the pillow. “What time?”
“Noon. Raúl will be waiting for you downstairs shortly before.”
“I should be responsible and say no.”
“But you won’t. I miss you.”
My breath caught. He tossed that out there nonchalantly, the way some men would say I’ll call you. But Gideon wasn’t the type of man to say anything he didn’t mean.
Still, I craved to feel the emotion behind the words. “You’re too busy to miss me.”
“It’s not the same,” he said. There was a pause. “It doesn’t feel right not having you here in the Crossfire.”
I was glad he couldn’t see me smile. There was an unmistakable trace of perplexity in his voice. It shouldn’t make a difference to him that I wasn’t working floors below his office, where he couldn’t see me. But it did.
“What are you wearing?” I asked.
“Clothes.”
“Duh. A three-piece suit?”
“Is there any other kind?”
Not for him, there wasn’t. “What color?”
“Black. Why?”
“It makes me hot thinking about it.” Which was true, but not why I was asking. “What color tie?”
“White.”
“Shirt?”
“Also white.”
Closing my eyes, I pictured him. I remembered that combination. “Pinstripes.”
He’d go with a pinstriped suit to keep the business look with that shirt and tie combination.
“Yes. Eva …” His voice lowered. “I have no idea why this conversation is making me hard, but it is.”